


Sugar

by pyrchance



Series: The Spice Rack [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Bullets Era (My Chemical Romance), Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Makeup, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26091385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrchance/pseuds/pyrchance
Summary: It’s the motel’s fault Ray's hiding in the bathroom rubbing at his eyes.If it were any normal night, he wouldn’t have walked in to take a shower and seen all of Mikey and Gerard’s bathroom crap laid out on the countertop. He wouldn’t have had the time or privacy to grow curious, to pick up the eyeliner he always sees Gerard messing with and draw an experimental line under his eyes.
Relationships: Ray Toro/Gerard Way
Series: The Spice Rack [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894375
Comments: 16
Kudos: 76





	Sugar

There’s a sort of rolling motion to living in a van that leaves Ray wrong footed every time they pull off for a stop. It’s the same thing on stage, when he swallows the hum of their instruments and feels it all the way down in his chest like some kind of new air he doesn’t ever want to stop breathing. It isn’t a thing he can explain, but he sees it in the other guys sometimes. It’s in the way Frank sways whenever they’re sitting in a diner, rocking back and forth like he doesn’t trust the frozen ground. It’s how Otter blasts the loudest music he can find whenever it’s his turn to drive, thumping along like the steering wheel is his drum kit. Mikey’s more subtle, but it’s there when he pulls up his hood and hides from the sun like it’s a giant spotlight.

Gerard is easy. There’s the Gerard that struts and wails and shakes himself apart on stage and the one that curls up in his hoodies with his books and comics and smiles without his teeth. Ray doesn’t have to see him to know which one is knocking on the bathroom door now.

“Ray? You still in there?”

Ray is sort of close to crying, which is not how he does things. It’s a motel night and he should be fucking ecstatic about it. They’ve got two actual rooms tonight. That’s four beds between the five of them instead of trying to squash everyone into two tiny mattresses or cycle them through the backseat of the van.

Except that it’s sort of the motel’s fault he’s hiding in the bathroom rubbing at his eyes. If it were any normal night, he wouldn’t have walked in to take a shower and seen all of Mikey and Gerard’s bathroom crap laid out on the countertop. He wouldn’t have had the time or privacy to grow curious, to pick up the eyeliner he always sees Gerard messing with and draw an experimental line under his eyes.

On any normal night he wouldn’t have the bandwidth to be thinking about the way the crowds react to Gerard and Frankie on stage—the way people have always reacted to Mikey when they get off it—and the way they don’t react to Ray like any of that at all whether he’s got a stage or not. If they were back in the van where they belonged Ray wouldn’t be dealing with any of this.

There’s another tentative knock on the door. Ray knows they’re supposed to be leaving for dinner soon. Frank has been hopping around looking feral at the promise of non-gas station food. Ray had been too, until about ten minutes ago.

“Ray?”

“Here,” says Ray, rubbing another hand under his eyes like it will do any good. It just smears the makeup more. He’s surprised his face can even get much worse. He thought the whole idea of makeup was to make things better.

Ray can practically hear Gerard’s frown. “Almost done? The guys are ready.”

Ray forces his fingers away from his face and lays his hands flat on the counter. The bathroom is lit by a single sallow, yellow bulb and the vent fan whines like it’s trying to kill itself. He looks away from the mirror, breathing in and out and reminding himself he’s supposed to be above all of this melodramatic bullshit. “You guys go ahead. I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sick?” worries Gerard. Frank’s weak stomach has already taught them the troubles of falling ill on tour. No one wants to go through puke in the van again.

“Just tired,” Ray lies. “Go on without me. I think I’m going to lay down.”

Sleeping actually sounds quite nice, especially since he gets a bed to himself since Mikey and Gerard bunk together. Ray wouldn’t mind having Gerard warm and soft in his own bed, but they don’t really do that anymore. Not since the band started and they both agreed they didn’t want to mess up the music. Ray doesn’t even think Mikey knows. That’s how short the interim period between meeting Gerard and starting the band had been. There had been a few quiet, stolen nights shared together and then a dull fade to daylight touches only.

There’s quiet on the other side of the door. Ray sighs a bit as he realizes Gerard must have gone. Ray tells himself it doesn’t hurt being left behind. He’s just overly sensitive right now for whatever reason. He needs to stop Gerard from pushing so many drinks into his hands all the time. He never used to be this weepy.

He just needs to clean up and get out of here. He looks around the messy bathroom countertop, somehow amazed even after all these months of touring with them just how messy the Way brothers can be. He doesn’t spot any makeup wipes though. Maybe they use something else, Ray doesn’t know. He runs a washcloth under the tap, adds a little hotel soap, and goes back to scrubbing at his face.

When he finally emerges, eyes raw and stinging, he finds Gerard stretched out on the nearest bed. His eyes are open and his hands are tucked under his head, neat as you please. He sits up as Ray hesitates in the doorframe.

“Hey,” says Gerard.

“Hey.” Ray ducks his head, willing his hair to do its work as he scurries across the room to his bed. He stops on the far side of it, back to Gerard, sitting in nothing but his boxers and a semi-clean shirt because he was going to change his jeans before dinner. He digs around for his pajama bottoms instead.

The bed dips beside him. “Hey,” Gerard repeats again, softer this time. Ray can’t help but stop moving when he feels Gerard’s palm come and rest on his shoulder. “You okay?”

Ray shrugs. He can’t exactly say yes when he can’t even look at him. He’s not in the habit of saying no to that question either though. That’s not his role.

The mattress jiggles as Gerard crawls across it. His arms wrap around Ray’s neck and his chin comes to land on Ray’s shoulder as Gerard wraps him in a hug. Ray stops pretending to look for his pajama bottoms and sits up from his duffle bag. He sighs again, knowing he’s been caught out, not wanting to face Gerard anyway.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” Gerard asks. Ray can feel the vibration of his voice where their bodies meet. This feels far more intimate than their agreement to disengage from each other should allow. Ray doesn’t really have it in himself to put a stop to it right now though. He’s not the type to feel low very often, not for no reason, not the way he sees Gerard so often struggle with it, but he feels low now.

“Just stupid stuff.” Ray waves a hand at his head, his other hand coming up to hold onto one of the arms Gerard has around his neck. He rubs his thumb into Gerard’s skin in thanks, then adds, “I really am going to sleep. You should go get dinner.”

“I don’t need it,” Gerard says and the movement of him shaking his head digs his pointy chin into Ray’s shoulder.

Ray disagrees. It isn’t a show day, but Gerard’s still had more than a few beers when they were driving. He should definitely eat something. Ray should probably talk to him about the drinking thing soon, actually. Or maybe Brian could, once they meet up with him again. Ray understands stage fright, but the way Gerard’s been swaying these past few shows is frightening on its own.

“You should eat,” Ray replies, because he’s a coward who doesn’t know how to start that conversation. Not when everything is still so new and shiny and everyone is still fumbling to find their rhythm together.

“I’m tired,” Gerard says, borrowing Ray’s words. “Come lay down with me?”

Ray doesn’t point out that they don’t do that anymore. It wouldn’t be exactly true anyway. The band is an affectionate bunch. He just lets the arms around his neck pull him back onto the mattress. He kind of expects Gerard to cuddle down into his side like he used to, but he doesn’t. He just leans back against the headboard and keeps his arms wrapped around Ray and Ray isn’t really used to feeling small, especially not in this band, but Gerard manages it in that moment.

The hotel room is cramped and old and stuffy, but the blackout curtains are open and sunset comes spilling through the windows. It’s a gentler yellow than what Ray found in the bathroom, more gold than anything else. The little bit of light that touches him is warm and soft on his bare legs.

He knows Gerard can see his face now. He’d washed off as much of the eyeliner as he could, but he knows he didn’t get it all. In addition to looking puffy and red from scrubbing he’s sure Gerard must be able to tell what he was doing in the bathroom. There’s a part of him that’s always going to be a little brother than braces for the teasing, but it doesn’t come.

Gerard doesn’t say anything. He just tucks Ray a little closer to the chest and hums; not a song, just a few inquisitive notes like he’s walked through to a new room and left a door open for him.

“I guess I wanted to try it,” Ray admits, because he might be too scared to ask about Gerard’s problems but he likes to get his own crap cleanly out of the way as soon as it crops up. He can’t exactly be the rock of the band if he’s stewing in his own bullshit.

“Makeup?” Gerard clarifies.

“I saw yours out on the counter,” shrugs Ray, like it doesn’t really matter. He guesses it doesn’t. He thinks he’s maybe a bit homesick and that’s what’s wrong with him. Before they recorded the album their so-called tours had barely stretched past a week. With this new stuff they’re working on, with Brian at the helm and crowds actually at their shows for them, Ray can barely remember the last time he saw his own bed. He adds, “I don’t think it’s for me though.”

“You didn’t like it?” Gerard strokes Ray’s chest through his thin shirt. His mouth is right next to Ray’s ear, close enough to stir his hair when he breathes.

“It didn’t really work.”

“What do you mean?”

“It didn’t look right.”

“Why not? I would have wanted to see it.”

Ray can’t help but be a little annoyed with Gerard missing the obvious here. They’ve only had a few photoshoots so far but already a pretty clear pattern has formed. “It’s not really meant for guys like me, you know?”

“No,” says Gerard, and his nose brushes against Ray’s ear. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He’s using the same tone of voice he sometimes has when he’s gearing up for a long stage rant. The kind of rant that should sound like the ravings of a drunk lunatic but somehow comes out prophetic and profound. Ray doesn’t know exactly where it bubbles up from in Gerard. There’s this intense little fire that rages inside of him, like someone shrunk down Captain America from one of his comic books and hid him beneath five layers of alcohol and lyrics and dark, stringy hair. Ray doesn’t want to fight that fire tonight. He honestly just wants to go to sleep.

Gerard has been lit, however. Ray is only half surprised when Gerard squeezes his shoulder, then wiggles his way out from under him. Ray finds himself laying back onto the warm spot Gerard leaves on the mattress as he stomps his way into the bathroom and comes back with his makeup bag.

“Sit up,” Gerard commands.

Ray groans, turning his face into the pillow. “Gerard, seriously, let’s just sleep. I didn’t mean it.”

“Fine. Stay right there then.”

Ray doesn’t have time to puzzle over this before he feels Gerard’s knees on either side of his ribs as Gerard climbs on top of him. Ray’s hands come up to his hips automatically, before he remembers himself. He takes his hands off and uses his elbows to push himself up as much as he can, watching as Gerard unzips his tiny bag and starts digging inside.

He should probably say something to stop him—Ray’s been humiliated enough as it is—but he just watches as Gerard pulls out a thin eyeliner pencil and pulls off the plastic lid.

“Makeup is for everyone,” Gerard says, as he zips up the rest of his case and sets it aside. Ray knows Gerard probably has a lot to say on the subject, but he leaves it at that. He brandishes the pencil at Ray and quirks an eyebrow. “Can I try?”

“It doesn’t look right,” Ray protests, not up for another round of embarrassment.

“Just let me try. Nothing looks good the first time you do it.”

Ray wonders a bit about that. Gerard never wore makeup around him before the band started, not even when Mikey drew them both out into the clubs. The first time he’d seen it had also been the first time he’d seen Gerard get absolutely trashed and throw up even before they got one stage. He and Mikey had disappeared into a bathroom and when they’d come back out again Gerard was only sort of swaying on his feet and his eyes were rimmed in black.

Ray lays back down on the bed and feels his breathing get tighter as Gerard scoots up his torso, sits on his chest, and leans down with a glint in his eye. It’s a bit like going to the dentist except Gerard is making the same face he makes when he’s attempting to draw in the rickety van. Ray holds still as Gerard bends over his face, closing his eyes when he gets close, and tries not to flinch at the pressure of the pencil on his eyelid.

“Open,” says Gerard after a minute and Ray blinks open his eyes. He hasn’t taken his contacts out yet and he sort of wishes he had. It would make looking up at Gerard without being able to touch him a little easier.

“This is the part that sucks,” Gerard adds, as he bends back down. _He_ doesn’t have any qualms about touching Ray. His fingers land on Ray’s face, gently pulling on his eye, and then Ray is trying not to blink, feeling his eyes water, as Gerard traces the pencil back and forth across his waterline. A few irritable tears leak out the sides of his eyes anyway, but Gerard just brushes them away, not making a big deal about it. Ray wonders if crying is always a part of makeup too.

When he finishes with the other side, Gerard sits back. “You need mascara too,” Gerard adds, and before Ray can ask to look he’s being instructed to hold still as Gerard comes at him with another tube Ray didn’t even know he had. Gerard cocks his head as he looks down at Ray, then grins. “Like hell it doesn’t work.”

Gerard is a storyteller, but he’s not a liar. That small bud of curiosity that first sprouted when Ray spotted the eyeliner on the counter stops withering and sprouts another tentative shoot. “Can I see?”

Gerard is already climbing off of him, putting back his pencil and mascara and zipping up his bag. He trots after Ray as he gets off the bed and moves back into the bathroom. The overhead fan whirls on with the terrible light and then Ray is looking at himself in the mirror and it’s—

It’s not terrible. Ray’s face is still sort of splotchy from earlier, but Gerard has a steady hand. The way he’s lined Ray’s eyes is dark and precise, not smudged the way he usually wears his own eyeliner but all sharp lines. There’s even this little wing extending from the end of each eye, which he’s never seen on any of the guys before. Ray looks up in the mirror to see Gerard smiling at him.

“It’s good, right?” Gerard says, stepping up and wrapping his arms around Ray’s stomach. He must be on his tip toes, because he hooks his chin around Ray’s shoulder again, looking at their reflection in the mirror.

“It’s different,” is what Ray settles on. It’s a little shocking to see himself blink in the mirror. He’s still getting used to his face without glasses all the time. It’s been so long since his last haircut, his hair is actually coming down around his ears now. The addition of black around his eyes draws the focus in and up, away from his lips that he sometimes hates, away from his soft chin. It’s not like he’s a completely different person, but it is, like he said, different.

Gerard hums in his ear. He drops off Ray’s back and sneaks around to his front, holding out his bag with a smirk he must have borrowed from Frank. “Want to do more?”

“More?” frowns Ray.

“Come here. Sit down.” Gerard pushes at Ray until his ass hits the counter. He shoves what must be Mikey’s gear into a corner and Ray gets the message and hops up. Gerard turns around and locks the bathroom door, which seems really strange until his hands return to his bag and he pulls out a tube of lipstick and a pallet full of colors.

Ray can’t help it. He draws back a little. That’s several steps further than Ray ever thought this thing would go. Several steps further and in the wrong direction.

Gerard must catch his uncertainty, because he hunches and lowers the makeup. “We don’t have to,” he says quickly. “I just thought, if it was your first time, you might maybe want to.”

“You just have all that with you?” Ray asks, mostly because his thoughts are spinning and he’s have a hard time picking out the right one. By the way Gerard dims, it’s the wrong thing to say.

“Sorry. It was a dumb idea. Just forget it.” Gerard fumbles for his bag, elbow knocking against Ray’s side in his haste to pull it over and put the lipstick and other makeup back inside. Gerard isn’t looking at him, which is always a bad sign. Gerard doesn’t have a problem with eye contact once he knows someone. He’s barely ever had a problem with it with Ray. He stops Gerard’s frantic movements with a hand on his hand.

Sometimes, things get so tangled up in band stuff Ray forgets how easy it is to just be with Gerard when they let themselves. It isn’t hard to remember to be gentle with each other when it’s just the two of them. Ray stops thinking about photoshoots and journalists and the kids in the pit and lets things be easy again.

“Put it on me?”

Gerard’s gaze flashes up to him and away with rabbit-white eyes. “You want to?”

“I’ll try it,” Ray says, because he’s not sure _want to_ is entirely honest. What he wants is to get rid of that panicky expression on Gerard’s face, the one that says he’s said too much and is terrified of being misunderstood.

The hard rigidness in Gerard’s limbs eventually fades the longer Ray just sits there. Gerard stops trying to put away the lipstick. Ray catches his eyes as they flicker once more to the closed door before Gerard steps between his legs on the counter, lifting his gaze to stare at Ray’s mouth.

“You don’t have to make that face,” Gerard says, when Ray purses his lips like he’s always seen in the movies. Gerard’s fingers crawl up to his chin this time, brushing over his cheeks. “Just relax.”

The lipstick is dark red when Gerard takes the lid off. Ray wasn’t expecting anything less. Ray tries to relax as he feels Gerard’s breath on his lips as he leans in with the tube, making his drawing face again.

“Open your mouth a little,” Gerard instructs and Ray does. The application this time is much less painful than with the eyeliner. Ray presses his lips together when Gerard asks and his lips are oddly sticky.

“Hold on,” Gerard says as Ray starts to turn for the mirror. He takes hold of Ray’s chin again and uses the corner of his thumbnail to scrape at the corner of Ray’s mouth a moment. His eyes scrutinize Ray’s face for a moment, before he nods. “Okay. Now look.”

Ray’s expecting to look like a clown. His features have always felt sort of clumsy on his face—big lips, squinty eyes behind dirty glasses, a round jaw. He doubts emphasizing all that will make it better.

When he looks in the mirror, not a lot of that has changed. He’s got contacts in, but now the black around his eyes makes them look bigger, more noticeable. The red on his lips should look ridiculous, and maybe it does, but it also looks deliberate, as if Ray were daring people to look at him. Ray doesn’t look like a clown, exactly. He isn’t sure what he looks like. It’s like his own face has been made unfamiliar.

Gerard hovers near his shoulder, watching him watch himself in the reflection. He’s got that same tentative expression he used when he locked the bathroom door. “What do you think?”

“It’s—” Ray doesn’t think the same answer will suffice “—weird,” he goes with. “Not bad,” he adds before Gerard’s face can fall, “I just don’t look like me.”

He doesn’t think he pulls it all off, not really. He’s not planning on ever wearing it outside of this bathroom. At the same time, he’s glad he’s done it. He sort of wants to take a picture of it, because it doesn’t really look real to him and he sort of wants to study it more when he’s alone.

Gerard seems to like it too. He steps between Ray’s legs again and smiles up at him that closed-mouth smiles he sometimes does when there isn’t anyone else around. His hands rest on Ray’s thighs, and Ray’s trying to be very patient here, but it’s the first time they’ve been truly alone in probably weeks and it’s a bit hard to remember he’s not supposed to slide his fingers into Gerard’s hair and pull him closer.

“It’s neat, right?” Gerard asks, peering up at Ray with his big dark doe-eyes. “I once wore it out in college. No one even recognized me.”

Ray’s heart squeezes. For all that Gerard shreds himself on stage there are parts of himself he holds tight to his chest. There are layers to him Ray wants to peel off and peek under.

It says a lot that Gerard just has lipstick rolling around in his toiletry bag. Ray thinks he’ll start there.

“Can I see you in it?” Ray asks.

Gerard goes pink across his nose. “I guess,” he says, but the eager way he steps out from Ray’s legs and leans towards the mirror belies his words. It’s much quicker when he does it to himself. Gerard’s hand is steady as he draws the lipstick over his mouth.

Gerard looks at himself in the mirror first and a tiny satisfied smile crosses his face before he turns back to Ray. Gerard is right. The effect of the lipstick _is_ neat. Gerard has a face built of fine, thin features. When painted, those elfin traits morph into something deep and glaring. When Ray pulls Gerard back between his knees, Gerard smiles with all his teeth. They stand extra white against the red of his lips. It’s not a smile any less true than the tiny one he gave Ray before, just different. It’s a bit like Gerard on stage, except without his throat trembling to scream.

“It suits you,” Ray murmurs, dragging his hand up to Gerard’s face and rubbing his thumb against his cheek. They’re treading dangerously close to the line here, but it’s worth it for the way Gerard pushes his face into Ray’s palm.

“Sometimes,” Gerard agrees. He catches Ray’s thumb when it comes too close to his mouth, getting it between his lips and biting.

Ray groans. “Gerard.”

Gerard looks up at him without releasing his thumb.

So what if there’s a line? At the end of the day, Ray is just a guy in a band. Why should he always have to be the responsible one? He pushes his thumb deeper into Gerard’s mouth, hooking it around his bottom teeth and drawing his jaw down. Gerard curls his tongue around the digit, the corners of his lips curling, playful and red, as he smiles up at Ray.

Ray doesn’t want to smudge Gerard’s makeup, but Gerard does. He turns his head, drawing Ray’s thumb across his lips until red smears onto his cheek. It makes him look already debauched. Ray doesn’t think it’s fair to ask him not to kiss him, so he doesn’t ask.

Gerard is already between his legs. It’s easy to lift his knees and wrap his ankles around Gerard’s waist, pulling him in. He lets his thumb fall away as he licks his way into Gerard’s mouth. Gerard is warm and tastes a bit like coffee. He shoots up to meet Ray as their mouths come together.

It’s funny, because Gerard is a great deal smaller than him, but sitting on the counter with his knees around Gerard’s waist makes Ray feel almost like he’s being carried. He’s still taller than Gerard, but that doesn’t matter when Gerard’s digs his hands into Ray’s hair and pulls him down.

Ray remembers this. It’s not like he hasn’t been with other people before, but it’s easy to let Gerard do this, to let go when he has someone he trusts to share it with.

He lets himself feel held. Lets Gerard take over the kiss with his teeth and scrape his nails down Ray’s back. Ray doesn’t mind being the rock of the band. It’s a source of pride usually. But it’s nice to set that down for a moment and just trust in Gerard to carry him.

“Missed you,” Gerard whispers, low and throaty in his ear. “Missed this.”

“Yeah,” Ray admits, tilting his head and giving Gerard access to his neck. Gerard latches on and maybe there will be questions about that later, but Ray isn’t thinking about later right now. He’s just letting himself be.

“Just this once,” Gerard promises, licking a stripe up Ray’s jugular, before dragging his teeth down it. It’s a wholly predatory gesture.“I wanna taste you like this.”

Gerard’s lipstick is smeared across his face. He already looks half fucked. When he drops to his knees, mouthing at Ray through his boxers, the red smears onto the white fabric like a promise.

Ray pulls off his own shirt, burying his hands in Gerard’s hair as he nuzzles his way closer to Ray’s cock. He scratches his nails over Gerard’s scalp in a way that has him arching up into the pressure. Gerard’s soft fingers come up to Ray’s waistband, tugging it down just enough for Ray’s cock to come free.

Gerard’s eyelashes flutter as he sinks down. There’s a moan in his lips that vibrates down to curl Ray’s toes. Gerard sucks on the head of his cock in hard, knee-bending pulls, the kind that makes Ray’s thoughts bleed out his ears. He looks up at Ray with his red lips still around the tip of his cock and he must know exactly what the sight of it does to Ray because he smiles.

“Jesus,” Ray mutters, petting Gerard quickly when his fingers accidentally snag on a tangle in his hair. He lowers one hand to run it across Gerard’s lips where they meet his cock. Gerard pulls off to nip at them. “Why haven’t I seen you like this before?”

“Special occasions only,” Gerard grins, before pushing up at Ray’s knees. “Lean back.” Ray gets the message and leans back against the mirror, shivering as his skin meets the cold glass. He brings his feet up on the counter, toes curling around the edge, leaving his ass almost hanging off the edge.

It’s a sort of horribly exposing position. The kind that makes Ray’s stomach swoop when Gerard pouts his lips and looks down at him. It’s not that Gerard hasn’t seen him this way before, but it’s been a while and Ray’s heard a lot more about his body and its deficits since then.

“You should see yourself like this,” Gerard says, stepping up and pressing a short kiss to Ray’s mouth. Gerard’s jeans press stiff against his ass, highlighting the stark difference between Ray laying almost naked on the counter and Gerard fully clothed and standing above him. “So good,” Gerard adds, kissing his way down Ray’s chest. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

Ray’s gut clenches. Perfect isn’t a word he’d ever used to describe himself. Neither had the world. But Gerard just rakes his fingers down Ray’s locked up abdominal muscles and digs them into his hips.

His mouth finds its way between Ray’s legs again as he licks up from the root of Ray’s cock to the tip. He ducks down again, this time drawing Ray’s balls into his mouth and rolling them with his tongue.

Ray shudders above him, curling in on himself. Gerard presses red stains into his cock and balls as he sucks and licks and kisses his way into making Ray a withering mess. Fingers crawl up Ray’s chest and press up against his lips. Ray takes the digits in, meeting Gerard’s eyes through the swoop of his black fringe as Gerard scissors them over Ray’s tongue.

Ray knows where those finger are going. Even before the band, they didn’t get to this part more than a couple times. When his hand is good and wet, Gerard presses those fingers against Ray’s hole. The pads of his fingers linger on the outside, barely giving pressure as Ray flutters against him. Just the promise of it has Ray squeezing Gerard’s shoulder, “Please, come on, please.”

“You don’t have to beg me for it,” Gerard says and then he takes Ray back into his mouth and slips his first finger in without preamble. Ray’s head smacks back against the bathroom mirror as his moan echoes loudly over the whirl of the fan.

Fingering isn’t something Ray does to himself. He’s not patient enough for it, nor does he have the privacy. It’s been so long since he’s had this, he can’t stop the noises from coming out from inside him. They echo deep down from his stomach, where he usually feels the bass come through. His groans tear at his vocal cords, but at least he’s not a singer.

Gerard’s blowjob is messy. He pulls off to spit on the hand not wrapped around Ray’s dick, before working a second finger inside. It’s probably way too soon and way too dry but Ray doesn’t care. He can’t move with the way Gerard has got him pressed up on the counter, back to the mirror and toes barely clinging to the counter. It’s enough of a challenge to keep his knees from locking up over Gerard’s ears.

Gerard crooks his fingers and Ray feels the zing of his prostate right down into his fingertips. Gerard doesn’t waste anytime once he finds it. Just keeps his fingers digging into that spot while Ray pants and keens above him.

“Gerard, Gee—fuck, I can’t—” Ray batters at Gerard’s hair, tugging at him while Gerard clings on to suck him for all he’s worth. “Come on. Come on,” Ray pants. 

Ray always loves watching Gerard’s face when they’re fucking. It’s no different now, when Gerard finally pulls off and lets Ray pull him up for a kiss. His lips are swollen and red, lipstick smeared everywhere and absolutely messy. Gerard’s eyelids hang low and heavy as he fucks his tongue into Ray’s mouth, timing it with the thrusts of his fingers in Ray’s ass.

Ray wants to fuck him. Wants to be fucked by him. They haven’t done either for all they’ve messed around.

Even as he thinks this though he can feel the crest of his orgasm building. It’s just enough when Gerard presses a third finger against his hole, not pushing it in but holding it there like a promise. Gerard’s hand on his cock works him fast and tight as their mouths knock together.

Ray’s orgasm spikes like the perfect crescendo of heat and rhythm and friction. Gerard strokes him through it, keeping his fingers working against his prostate as the hand on his cock gets soaked with Ray’s come. When it finishes shuddering through him, Ray collapses against the mirror like he’s just run a marathon, thighs shaking as Gerard pulls his fingers out and runs them quickly under the sink.

“I wanted you to fuck me,” Ray says, because it seems important to say in this moment. He can’t bring himself to say, “I want to do this again,” but he hopes the message gets though.

Gerard’s entire body shivers against Ray. He’s practically laying on top of Ray on the counter, hips pressed firmly against Ray’s ass to keep him from falling off. The scratch of his denim against Ray’s thighs reminds him that Gerard is still fully dressed. That for all he’s taken Ray apart and looks utterly worked over, Ray hasn’t even touched Gerard’s cock yet.

Gerard presses his forehead to Ray’s chest and shakes his head. “No lube,” he mutters, and his breath plays over Ray’s nipples, unintentionally making him shiver.

“I bet one of the other guys has some. Frank, definitely,” Ray says, holding onto Gerard’s ass when his hips begin to circle against Ray’s spent cock.

“That’s gross,” Gerard mutters, still burying his head in Ray’s chest. “I don’t want to fuck you with borrowed lube.”

Personally, Ray thinks every single person in the band has done something grosser, probably within the last two days. Still, he doesn’t protest. “Then what do you want?” he asks, squeezing Gerard’s ass. Gerard groans, teeth catching on Rays’ nipple, before lifting his head with effort.

“Clean me up in the shower?”

It’s probably the only time Ray has ever heard Gerard willingly offer to get clean. Ray doesn’t have to hold back his enthusiasm as he nods. Gerard eventually steps back from the counter, letting Ray climb down on wobbly knees to turn the tap in the bathtub. He checks the temperature before turning it to shower and leaving it to run. They’re in a motel. They don’t even have to worry about hot water.

When he turns back around, Gerard is leaning on the counter, hands curled around the top as he’s watching Ray. The state of his arousal is clear in his jeans. Ray comes back around quickly, helping him out of his pants and enjoying Gerard’s hiss as his cock finally meets the air.

He pulls off Gerard’s shirt too, then pulls him close before he can duck his head like he tends to do, feeling the press of Gerard’s erection on his thigh.

He can’t help but look at their reflection in the mirror. It’s the first time he’s seen himself since Gerard started kissing him and it freezes him when he sees the mess Gerard has made of his face. His lipstick is smeared across his lips—less severely than Gerard’s to be sure, but no less telling in what they’ve been getting up to.

Ray catches his own eyes in the mirror and is met with an intensity he doesn’t recognize. The black around his eyes is still there, still precise, despite the way his lipstick ended up. His pupils are shot open and his entire gaze is dark and hungry when he catches himself in his reflection.

It’s the look of someone with a purpose. Ray finds it difficult to look away, even when the mirror starts to steam from the shower.

It is, Ray hazards, the first time he finds himself attractive without caveat.

He doesn’t think it has anything to do with the makeup.

He takes Gerard quickly apart in the shower, works his fingers inside him while Gerard keens and bites down on his shoulder and comes before Ray can barely get a hand around his cock. Putting them both back together again takes more time.

Gerard steps out of the shower wet and wobbly-kneed a comes back with a bottle of makeup remover Ray must have missed. They wipe the lipstick and the eyeliner off each other between slow, wet kisses. It’s been a while since Ray’s seen Gerard’s face free of any makeup at all and he takes his time lathering up his hands with shampoo and working it down into the roots of Gerard’s hair. Gerard yelps when Ray scrubs him down behind his ears, but really, someone has to do it.

When the step out again the bathroom is fogged almost to the point of making it hard to breathe and both of them are shiny clean and soft. They stumble into their pajamas and onto one of the beds. Gerard has a knack for finding the only decent movies on in places like this and they both settle in to the start of some ancient B-list horror movie. Somehow Ray’s head ends up pillowed on Gerard’s stomach while hands scratch through his curls and maybe this is why Gerard had to be the frontman because he’s the only person that’s ever made Ray feel this kind of small.

The light of the sun has disappeared from outside, sucking the golden hue from the hotel room and leaving them case in the bluish-gray of the TV screen. Ray curls his fingers into Gerard’s hand and listens to the sound of his stomach grumble where it’s pressed against his ear. He needs to get up eventually, he knows. The guys will be back from dinner soon and itdoesn’t bypass Ray that he and Gerard are laying on top of the covers, rather than beneath them.

There are words that they should be saying probably, but Ray doesn’t want to listen it. He’ll let Gerard be the responsible one this once, the one that will gently push Ray out of the bed when they hear the trudge of footsteps in the hall. They won’t have the conversation about _never again_ because they both know that not true. Gerard doesn’t know how to not to chase the things he wants and maybe Ray knows how to say no, but he doesn’t want to.

There won’t be a conversation about _next time_ either.

What there will be is moments like this—their bodies pressed against each other, some movie in the background, a murmur of easy words between them, and a potential for something more shared in the quietness held between two.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you know I have a thing about making big characters feel Small? Yeah, it's a thing. 
> 
> Reminder you can find me on tumblr @[pyrchance](https://pyrchance.tumblr.com).


End file.
